


Starfish

by superstringtheory



Category: Captain America (Movies) RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, RPF, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 01:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7412671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstringtheory/pseuds/superstringtheory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shameless sickfic. So sugary and fluffy it's basically cotton candy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starfish

**Author's Note:**

> I did it. I wrote the RPF. 
> 
> Come find me on tumblr at superstringtheory.tumblr.com. I will talk about Seb Stan and his thighs of betrayal at literally any time.

“What’s wrong with you today?” his trainer wants to know. 

“I don’t know, man, just didn’t sleep well, I guess.” Sebastian knows that’s a lie the second it comes out of his mouth. Last night he’d felt exhausted after getting home from the airport, had gone to bed at nine-thirty (nine-thirty!!) and slept like the dead for over ten hours. 

“Well, shape up. We want Winter Soldier, not just winter. You know, like the season. All gray and blah and just-- eh.” Don waves his hand around to signify his distaste. 

Sebastian nods tiredly, knowing exactly how “eh” feels right about now. 

“Winter isn’t toned, Seb. Winter stays at home under the blankets and eats carbs. Winter Soldier, on the other hand, he’s up with the sun and eating steak. You got it?” 

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” Sebastian hides a small cough into his elbow and tries not to think about blankets and carbs and how inviting that combination sounds right about now.

 

~~~~~

 

He doesn’t have it-- of this he’s well aware, by the way this workout is going. His arms feel like wilted lettuce, and the gym is  _ freezing _ , even though he still has his sweatpants on. His throat is dry and scratchy, no matter how much water he drinks, and he’s just so winded-- really, Don probably won’t mind if he goes to take a quick rest over by the water fountain, if he just rests for a few minutes and then comes back all ready for his next set. 

Sebastian swallows more water, winces, and shivers. Yeah, that’s totally going to happen. Definitely.

 

~~~~~

 

Sebastian’s on a chair in the lobby when Chris arrives, breathless from running up subway steps and bypassing the slow building elevator in favor of the stairs. 

He looks up when Chris stops at the receptionist’s desk, flapping his big hands around. 

“I’m here to… pick up Sebastian?” he says, and damn if he doesn’t get more attractive every time Sebastian sees him. Today he’s all scruff and bright blue eyes, and Jesus, it’s not fair. 

“I’ll bet you are.” The receptionist looks him up and down, and then jabs her pen in Sebastian’s direction. 

“He’s right there.” Sebastian lifts a hand miserably, waves. When Chris gets closer he can see that Sebastian’s pale except for a dull flush at his neck and cheeks, eyes overbright. 

“Came early for lunch?” Sebastian tries joking, but the look of concern on Chris’ face stops him. 

“Don called me. Said you were sick and to come get you. Jesus, man, the way he said it I thought you were lying on the floor or something.” 

“Yeah, well, you know Don. He didn’t want me germing up all his free weights.” Sebastian coughs into his elbow then, and looks so sweetly pathetic that Chris just wants to bundle him up in every sweater he owns and keep him inside forever. 

“You okay, Seb?” Chris’ voice is so earnest, so Captain-freakin-America, that it makes it really hard to lie. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sebastian clears his throat, painfully. “Well, not really. Just kind of… achy, I guess? And my throat hurts.” 

“Do you have a fever?” Chris is asking, as his thumb skims over the top of Sebastian’s hand, just for a second. 

Sebastian takes a moment to readjust his baseball cap, duck his head before looking back up at Chris. “I don’t know… I guess maybe?” He shivers, then, and Chris can’t help but chuckle.

“Maybe.” 

“Okay, probably.”

 

~~~~~

 

Chris springs for a cab back to Sebastian’s apartment, and Sebastian doesn’t even protest, just allows himself to be shuffled into the backseat, and that alone tells Chris a lot about how poorly his friend is feeling. 

Sebastian coughs harshly up the stairs to his fourth-floor walkup, leans against the wall by his door, fumbling with his keys until Chris gently takes them from him and easily opens the door, holding it open for Sebastian to practically fall in and dive for the couch. 

Chris hover-hands Sebastian’s shoulder over the back of the couch. “Do you own a thermometer?” 

Sebastian’s rubbing his temples. “Yeah, medicine cabinet, next to the ibuprofen.” 

“Is that a hint that you need some?” 

“... Uh.” 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Chris disappears momentarily into the bathroom, then returns, rattling the medicine bottle and proffering the thermometer. 

“Open up.” 

Sebastian looks doubtful. “Really, Chris? Really? I’m not five.” 

“But you _ are  _ sick. C’mon, just put the damn thing in your mouth.” 

Sebastian shivers again, tries not to think about how Chris saying that (in that forceful tone, no less) in any other context (or, well, several specific contexts) would make him rock hard and ready to open up in other ways. As it is, he has to swallow and then focus really hard on the sharp pain in his throat to keep this from becoming its own whole issue. 

The thermometer beeps a minute later and Chris takes it, trading Sebastian for a glass of water and a couple of pills dropped into his palm. 

“Hundred and two,” Chris grimaces. “Jesus, Seb, you don’t do things halfway, do you?”

 

~~~~~

 

The last thing Sebastian remembers is sitting down on the couch for a minute with Chris, and he’s just going to rest his eyes for a minute and rub his temples, and then he’s waking up, Chris’ warm body pressed up against him. 

“Dude,” Sebastian croaks. “Did I fall asleep on your shoulder? I’m sorry, Jesus.” 

“You were tired, it’s okay.” Chris chuckles. “And I got some reading in. Caught up on all my men’s health and fashion tips.” He nudges the copy of  _ GQ _ on the coffee table, and Sebastian flushes more deeply. 

“Ugh, don’t read that.” He makes a face. 

“What? You look cute in sunglasses.” Chris grins at him, raising his eyebrows. 

“Ugh,” Sebastian repeats, runs his hand through his unruly hair, rubs at his temples. “I really don’t feel good,” he says, like he’s just come to the realization. 

“It’s the con crud,” Chris tells him knowledgeably. “You just hugged like three hundred people.” 

“Bleh.” Sebastian sinks deeper into the couch cushions. 

Chris takes him by the shoulders, then, and says, “Hey. It’s okay. I’m going to make you some soup, and you’re going to keep your ass parked right on that couch and eat it.” 

Sebastian raises a sardonic eyebrow. “Yessir, Cap,” he says, and then coughs into his fist while Chris bustles away into the kitchen.

 

~~~~~

 

Chris pulls a Tupperware of plain chicken breast out of the fridge and brandishes it in the couch’s direction. “Can I use this?” 

“Sure, do whatever you want.” Sebastian flaps a hand at him. “Don’t think I’m up for the constant protein diet today anyway.” 

Sebastian dozes off, then, and when he wakes up again, it’s to Chris’ hand on his forehead and the smell of chicken soup wafting through the apartment. 

“You want some more ibuprofen?” Chris is asking. “I think your fever’s up.” 

Sebastian sits up, rubs his hand over his face. “Yeah, I guess. Fuck, I feel like absolute shit.” He considers Chris, then, standing in front of him in sock feet and has to stop himself from just gazing. Fuck, he’s so ruined, in so many ways. He’s felt that slight undercurrent to his and Chris’ friendship for months now, that little flirtatious tinge to their interactions. Chris’ hand on his elbow when someone else tripped, Chris’ arm around him for photo ops, just a little longer than strictly necessary. But now, now that he’s sick and disgusting and Chris is still here, making him goddamn soup-- there’s no way he can deny it anymore, the way he wants Chris to throw him down on the bed and fuck him good and hard, and then hold him after. 

Well, the way things are going today, maybe he can settle for just the ‘holding’ part for now.

 

~~~~~

 

When Chris returns with the pills and a steaming bowl of soup, Sebastian’s at a bit of a loss. He wants Chris to stay, but now that he’s already made Sebastian soup, taken his temperature and all but tucked him into bed, it doesn’t feel fair to make him stick around germ central just because Sebastian likes listening to his quick laugh and watching him blush. 

He’s saved from making a fool of himself by Chris himself, who, upon handing over the soup, says, “I know you’re not feeling so hot, but if you’re up to watching a movie, I could keep you company.” He says this all a little too casually-- at least to Sebastian’s ear-- and Sebastian takes a moment to spoon up some soup and blow on it before taking a bite. 

“Sure,” he says, swallowing, trying to sound casual himself despite the low, rasping tone to his voice.  “Could go for a movie.”

 

~~~~~

 

How they end up watching one of Chris’ older movies is beyond him-- it had started out as a joke, after Chris had cheekily mentioned enjoying  _ The Covenant _ (a movie Sebastian would like to forget ever happened, thank you very much), and Sebastian retorting that he was sure Chris had a few embarrassments of his own (Silver Surfer, anyone?), but then Sebastian had started coughing and couldn’t stop, and Chris was rubbing his back soothingly, like someone taking care of a sick lover, not a coworker-turned-friend. 

When he finally stops coughing and is able to carefully sip some water, Chris seems ready to promise him anything. Including watching  _ Push _ , some god-awful special effects trainwreck of a movie that Chris starred in with a young, sassy Dakota Fanning. 

Chris also insists on running down to the corner bodega and grabbing a bottle of cough syrup, which he then insists Sebastian take an immediate shot of, patting him on the elbow once he’s swallowed and made a face. 

“You good?” Chris’ hand is still on his elbow. Still. On. His. Elbow. And Chris is leaning closer, while onscreen Dakota Fanning is throwing around a lot of pink and green-streaked dirty blonde hair while Chris runs around. 

“Is this okay?” Chris asks, lips right next to Sebastian’s. His hand has traveled up from Sebastian’s elbow to the back of his neck, and he’s scooted himself even closer on the couch. 

Sebastian nods quickly, feeling a non-fever-related flush rise to his cheeks as Chris kisses him, softly at first but then with increasing intensity. He’s sure that he tastes like cherry cough syrup and he’s also sure that he doesn’t give a shit.

 

~~~~~

 

“Is this okay?” seems to be Chris’ refrain, the whole time he’s gently pushing Sebastian back into the couch, hungrily kissing the hollow of his neck, and then fucking picking him up and carrying him to the bedroom. 

“Is this okay?” when he’s pulling Sebastian’s sweatpants down, Sebastian doing all he can not to buck his hips, finally Sebastian has to stop for a moment and rasp out, “Fuck, Chris, it’s all okay, just-- keep--  _ going _ .” 

Chris pauses then from kissing the slight softness at Sebastian’s belly, moves up to hover over his face. 

“You good to keep going, Seb? You look a little--” Chris’ forehead creases in concern. Sebastian’s sure he does look a little-- well, feverish and ill, actually-- but now that this has started, his aches and pains seem minor annoyances. 

“Yeah, dude,” he says. “As long as you don’t mind that I’m starfished out here.” 

Chris chuckles at that, and kisses Sebastian square on the jaw, then kisses back down his chest, his stomach, and he’s taking Sebastian’s cock into his mouth, and it feels absolutely glorious. 

Sebastian can’t help fisting his hand in Chris’ hair, moaning hoarsely as Chris does some sort of twisting motion with his wrist while he’s mouthing the head of Sebastian’s cock. 

He gets an ominous tickle in the back of his throat, then, and he starts coughing. Sebastian expects Chris to stop, then, but he doesn’t. He’s very sly and careful with his teeth, mostly using his hands while Sebastian is trying to regain his breath, and maybe it’s some sort of combination of this-- the slight oxygen deprivation, Chris’ teeth softly kissing his dick, the fever making his nerve endings electric-- but Sebastian comes harder than he can remember in the recent past.

 

~~~~~

 

Chris lets Sebastian bask for a few moments, and then scoots up to press a long kiss to his warm forehead. He grabs the blanket from the bottom of the bed, too, and drapes it over Sebastian’s half-naked body. 

“Orgasms are healing,” he whispers into Sebastian’s ear, and Sebastian chuckles lightly, trying not to trip his cough reflex. “Don’t laugh, you jerk, I read an article.” 

Chris fits his body up next to Sebastian, who is feeling that postcoital slump. Sebastian “mmphs” when Chris nudges him, and sighs when Chris drapes his arm over his chest.

 

~~~~~

 

The next few days are a blur of Nurse Chris, who cooks breakfast and sometimes wears only an apron when doing so, as well as tsks at thermometer readings, terrible television, and cuddling. So much cuddling. 

Who’d have guessed, Captain America is kind of a big softie-- or at least Chris is. He’s so unfailingly thoughtful that it makes Sebastian feel unworthy, especially when he’s lying on the couch, hair unwashed, mostly recovered save for a lingering chesty cough, dozing while watching the umpteenth episode of  _ House Hunters International _ . 

“Hey, dude,” Chris says casually from in front of the couch, and Sebastian blinks slowly. “You up for a shower?” 

Chris is completely nude. His (admittedly impressive) junk is right about at eye-level. Sebastian is, instantly, totally awake. 

“Yeah,” Sebastian says. “Except this time I’m not going to be a starfish. I’m all octopus.”

 


End file.
